


Animal Desired

by Monalisasandmadhatters20



Series: Love, or something like it. [4]
Category: Elton John (Musician), Music RPF, Rocketman (2019), Rocketman (2019) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:21:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 13,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23260879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monalisasandmadhatters20/pseuds/Monalisasandmadhatters20
Summary: Part four of the love or something like it series.  You should probably read some of that before getting into this.  It won't make sense without it.I don’t know if I’ll ever be willing to admit it, especially seeing Bernie taking great pains in both therapy and meetings to keep himself on track.  It would break his heart.  I have been lying to him.  But that’s what we do, isn’t it?  Do our best to get better for each other, then hide the real facts?Or...  Elton and Bernie are doing their best for each other in their quasi-relationship, but it seems even their best will never be good enough...
Relationships: Elton John/Bernie Taupin, past Elton John/John Reid
Series: Love, or something like it. [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1492940
Comments: 18
Kudos: 14





	1. Prologue

_ Dear notebook, _

_ It has been a long while since I picked you up and began to pen my thoughts and I have been feeling it lately. My mind seems to creep back into dark places without the drink or the drug to keep me numb. I stopped going to therapy a few weeks ago as well, which no doubt does nothing to aid in keeping my mind in the light. Luckily I am trusted to drive my own bloody car now whenever I like, so Bernie and Ray don’t know quite yet. _

_ I don’t know if I’ll ever be willing to admit it, especially seeing Bernie taking great pains in both therapy and meetings to keep himself on track. It would break his heart. I have been lying to him. But that’s what we do, isn’t it? Do our best to get better for each other, then hide the real facts?  _

_ At almost 41 I should have a better relationship with the truth, I suppose… _

_ John sent me a birthday card to Bernie’s ranch. He must have known we were trying out a sort of quasi relationship once I kicked him out of my life. Nothing concrete has come of our relationship quite yet, but I have been camping out in his room more than my own since he’s returned home. He pretends he’s fine, but spending so much time with him over the years, I know it’s not true. Just as he knows I am not as fine as I say I am either… Especially since the blasted birthday card, like that could undue to the fucking gang rape he put me through, the arsehole… _

Elton shook his head before those terrible memories overtook him.

_ But we are making it through, somehow. Two broken souls running circles around each other and hoping one of us makes the first move, yet both determined not to, it seems. But neither of us have run quite yet, so that is some sort of progress all things considered, I suppose. _

_ I’ll be the first to go, I’m certain, when the truth comes out. _

_ I wish I knew how to keep moving forward. I wish I knew how to help Bernie. But most importantly, I wish I never got fucking sober. _

Elton threw his biro on the desk with a huff, folding his arms across his chest. Not even Amoreena, his lovely pug girl, trying to jump on his lap would make him smile this time. He rolled his eyes, picking up Amoreena and placing her on his lap. He scratched her ears, feeling the beginnings of a smile when her tongue lolled out in happiness. “You know your legs are too short to jump on my lap, silly girl,” he cooed, petting her gently. “Oh, Amoreena-baby, what am I going to do?”

“About what?”

Elton jumped, almost knocking Amoreena off his lap. He looked up and saw Ray standing in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. Elton flinched when he saw the scowl on his face and how red his cheeks were. 

An angry Ray never boded well for Elton.

“Nothing, mate,” Elton said quickly, hoping he was at least partially convincing. By the unchanging look on Ray’s face, though, he could tell he was unsuccessful. Elton squirmed slightly. “What do you know that I don’t?”

“Don’t give me that bullshite. Of course you know what’s wrong, and you are lucky it was me who answered the bloody phone, you idiot,” he hissed, stepping into the room. He shut the door gently behind him. “Why have you not been attending your sessions, Elton? Are you looking to break Bernie again, because once he finds out you have been lying to him, there is a good chance we won’t be able to put him back together again…”

Elton took Amoreena in his arms and jumped to his feet. “How dare you, Raymond WIlliams. You know how much I love Bernie,” he hissed back, not willing to raise his voice and wake Bernie from his afternoon nap. 

Ray snorted. “Not as much as you love yourself, it seems. So have you been using again? Or just skipping out on the therapy. If you’ve been using you might as well just walk out the door on him once again because I will not allow you to take Bernie down that path, not now, not ever again. Understand?”

Elton shook his head. “I haven’t touched it, no matter how much I want to. But you know what?,” Elton asked, setting Amoreena down and throwing his journal in his rucksack, along with the few things he didn’t think he could live without. “You know fucking what? I think I might just take your advice and leave because I want nothing to do with you and your condescending attitude you always have with me, Ray. You’ve had it since the second week Bernie was home, and I’m drained. Tell Bernie I love him, but cannot stay with you fucking living here. I’ll be at my own damn house.”

Elton didn’t know if Ray’s anger at him truly gave him an excuse to leave the budding relationship he and Bernie found themselves nurturing in their own way, in their own time, or if he was being just plain selfish like he normally was, but as he sped away from the ranch he found himself finally able to breathe again. 

Ray watched him rush out the door, Amoreena in his arms, and shook his head. “I should have known you’d be the coward that ran first,  _ Sir _ Elton John. There is nothing noble about you. Once you figure that out, the better off you’ll be…,” he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets.

  
  
  


*******************

“And you just let him go?”

Ray flinched at the venom in Bernie’s voice, doing his best not to curse. He knew Bernie would be pissed at him, but not this level of pissed… “Y-yes. He was adamant about going to his house, mate. What was I supposed to do, lock him in the guest room?”

Bernie folded his arms across his chest. “Would have been better then letting him go off to spend his days alone in that old drafty manor house, innit? I mean, really Ray… Where was your bloody head?,” Bernie scolded, his voice getting steadily louder with each word. “And he changed the fucking locks after he kicked Reid out and never thought to give me a key. By now he is no doubt too doped up to even answer the bloody door if he heard it from his bedroom. He fired all the staff, remember? And for fuck’s sake, he doesn’t even know how to bloody cook!”

Ray collapsed on the sofa. He knew all of that, of course, but in the heat of the moment, it slipped his memory. He put his head in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice smaller than it had been in years. “I didn’t think about all of that. The only good thing, I suppose, is he can drive himself around now.”

Bernie snorted. “Barely. If he even makes it home with how well he does with directions.” Bernie sat beside Ray on the sofa. “I’m sorry, mate. I shouldn’t have yelled atcha. You were only doing what you thought was right. You just don’t know Reg how I do. I have a really bad feeling about this.”

Ray nodded, patting Bernie’s knee to show he was also forgiven. “I didn’t until now, and I see why you are so bloody protective of the wanker, even when he does this shite over and over again. I’m going to make some calls and see what I can do. Do your best not to fret over it, alright, mate? I don’t need you having a bloody panic attack right now.”

Bernie nodded. That really was the last thing they needed. He may have been doing better on the pill regime, but that didn’t mean it one wouldn’t come on just as quickly and silently as they had before. “Thanks, mate. I’m going to take a wash, I reckon, and head over to his house just in case. I guess I could try to crawl in a window or something if I have to.”

Ray snorted. “Luckily no neighbors within ten kilometers to call the bobbies on ya now, eh?”

“In America we call them miles, Raymond, thank you very much. You live here now and need to start adapting at some point.”

“The imperial measurement system is not something I will adapt to anytime in the near future, thank you very much. Enjoy your idiocy. I will not.”


	2. Reflection

Bernie swallowed his pills with a glass of Coca Cola, and truly wished for some rum within the glass. He was weary. He was tired of running after Reg whenever he ran from him. It was the ongoing issues that continued even when he thought they were well that seemed to drag him down. It seemed Reg’s stint in rehab did him no good if he continued to follow the same path time and time and time again.

Then to find out he had been skipping his therapy sessions and his own AA meetings was like a kick to the gut for Bernie. Bernie had done all he could to stay healthy, and would continue because he actually  _ liked _ the person he was without the constant stream of drink and drugs within his system. He just wished Reg felt the same.

He sighed. He wondered if he should even run after him this time, or just let him fall into the hole of his cravings and make his way out in his own time. His own therapist told him he couldn’t save people if they didn’t want to be saved. He wondered if he should take her advice and stay put, or follow his heart and bundle Reg up and bring him back home.

He squatted down and began to pet Levon, his wonderful beagle who Reg brought home to him not too long after he was released from the hospital, and smiled sadly at the depressed look his dog gave him. “He took your sister with him, bub. Silly man. How about we take a walk? Maybe that will give me the answers I need, hmm?,” he asked, standing up and taking the blue leash off the wall. “You daddy was so funny, huh? Pink for Amoreena and blue for you, like you can even tell the difference.”

He walked the grounds with Levon for over an hour, checking in on the cattle and horses he had imported in when he needed something to keep himself occupied. He stopped and petted his prized stallion, Daniel, before nodding at the stableboys as they got to work. 

His life was full, with or without Reg by his side. He needed to remember that.

He wouldn’t remember that. He knew once this walk was over he’d bundle Levon in the back of the pickup truck and make the three hour trek to Reg’s manorhouse. He could only hope he would get there before he made the call to John fucking Reid his fingers had been itching to do.. Bernie had been watching the phone records since Reg’s birthday and he received the goddamn card and roses from the arsehole.

At least this time, Bernie knew he did nothing to drive him into Reid’s arms. This time, if it happened, it would be all on Reg.

_ And at that point, I will be through. Totally and completely, _ he thought, opening the back of the cab for Levon. He looked up at the sky, feeling the tears he had refused to shed all day due to his worry begin to fall.  _ Please don’t let me have to be through. _

He walked back to his house and opened the front door. “Raymond! I need you to come with me.”

“I’m not so certain he wants to see me at all, mate,” Ray replied, looking up from the mountain of paperwork on the table. “And I’m right here, no need to yell.”

“Sorry, thought you’d be in your room catching up on your beauty sleep,” Bernie snarked. He sighed. He didn’t realize just how angry he still was at the poor man over the whole situation. “And I don’t much care if he wants to see you or not. I don’t trust myself to drive there without stopping at a pub right now and I’m trembling too much to stay on the road without one. Please, Raymond? Come with?”

Ray sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I knew this would happen,” he muttered, getting to his feet. “Yes, yes, I’ll come. Just let me put on my shoes, yes? Did you take your medication this morning? That might be why you are trembling.”

“Yes, I took it. You watched me take it, mate.”

Ray shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time you pretended to swallow your pills for my benefit, would it now?,” he asked, sliding his loafers on his feet. “Though I will admit you’ve been better about it lately, so I guess I’ll stop asking. Do you need to call your therapist before we go? Are you sure you want to even go there? I don’t want to drive three hours and then have you decide you can’t even make it to the door when I have work here to do.”

“No, I don’t think I need to call her. I have the mobile Reg left if I do. And yes, I think I’m sure I want to go there.”

Ray frowned. “Convincing, mate,” Ray murmured, shrugging his coat over his shoulders. “Alright, let’s get going so we can get back.”

Bernie nodded, walking back to his truck with his head down. He hated asking for help. He hated asking Ray to leave his work behind to make this trip with him. He hated being so weak he couldn’t do anything alone. He jumped into the passenger side of the truck, smiling when Levon licked the side of his face.

“Thank you,” he said softly, when Ray let go of the clutch. 

“Anything for you, Bernie,” he whispered, taking his hand in his own and squeezing softly. “Anything for you.”


	3. Capable

Bernie sat in the small waiting room, tapping the sole of his leather cowboy boot on the tiled floor. He had his arms folded across his plaid shirt that was tucked into his black denims, his long black hair worn down. It was the most put together he had looked in months, and he was certain his therapist would comment on it. He didn’t even know what caused the change in him.

Other than the fact he hadn’t seen in Reg in weeks…

He sighed, crossing his ankles and jigging his legs. His anxiety had worsened as each day passed, to the point he couldn’t even sit still in a fucking waiting room and it was causing strangers to give him weird looks. He glared at them darkly, hoping one of them would say something. He was itching for a fight.

His life was so  _ boring _ without Reg in it.

He stared at the wall, doing his best to stop paying attention to the stares before his paranoia got the best of him. Just a few more moments and he would be away from the penetrating eyes. Just a few more moments and he could talk about what was going on inside his head. Just a few more moments and he could figure out what was going on between him and Ray, and him and Reg, and perhaps even Ray and Reg if he talked enough.

He didn’t want to talk, and if Ray hadn’t dropped him off he would already be back at home.

“Bernard?”

If Ray hadn’t dropped him off he’d probably be at the first pub he found.

“Bernard Taupin?”

If Ray hadn’t dropped him off he’d probably be looking for Reg in the first pub he found.

“Bernie Taupin?,” the receptionist asked once again, annoyance in her voice and looking at him strangely.

“Oh, right. That’s my name, innit, love? My apologies,” Bernie replied, getting to his feet. He shoved his hands in his pockets to still them. “I was in my own little world.”

“I see that. The doctor will see you now,  _ love _ ,” she replied, rather crossly if Bernie understood correctly. He only nodded at her as he passed by the desk, the shaking becoming more pronounced with each step.

Doctor Stark smiled at him kindly when he entered the even smaller office and collapsed on the sofa. He took his hands out of his pockets and held his head in them instead. Her kind smile turned to a frown. “Everything alright, Bernie?” He shook his head no. “Alright, then. Where would you like to start?”

“Reg left me,” he said softly, brokenly, never lifting his head. “I haven’t seen him in weeks. Not since our roommate told him off for discontinuing his own therapy sessions. I haven’t said anything because I keep hoping he will come back to me, but I don’t even know where he is. His grandmum says he has not returned to his house, even though that’s where he told Raymond he’d be going. He hasn’t been to any of our usual haunts either. And he’s not in the obits either, so at least he’s alive. He just doesn’t want to be found, it seems, least of all by me.”

“Why do you say, ‘least of all by me’?”

“Knowing my Reggie, he’s terrified he has disappointed me, and he doesn’t want to see me. He has probably gone through cases of gin and tonic in this time, and shoved more powder up his nose and liquid up his veins than he ever had before after so many months sober. I just wish I knew where to look.”

“Or he’s set up somewhere dealing with the pain in a healthy way? You said he had taken up journaling before. Maybe…”

“He left all his journals at my house when he left. I can’t imagine  _ the _ Elton John waltzing into a shop to buy a notebook to continue his musings. He hates writing with a passion. That’s why I’m the lyricist.”

Doctor Stark smiled. “Have you been writing, Bernie?”

“Well, yes. I have to to stay sane.”

“And have you gone to the bottle or drugs to deal with all of this?”

“Well, no… Raymond ensures I can’t get my hands on it. He even drives me everywhere now because he’s afraid I’m going to stop and get some. Plus my anxiety is so bad I am constantly trembling and he feels that is just a recipe for disaster for me. I think… I think he cares for me in a way I need to worry about.”

“What do you mean by that, Bernie?”

“It’s just a feeling I am having. I think… I think he is in love with me. I don’t know if I could ever love him in more than a friendly way. Hell, I don’t even know if I am actual love with Reg. I don’t know if I am capable of love… I think we’re done for today. I need a smoke,” he said, getting to his feet and rushing for the door.

Doctor Stark sighed as the door slammed behind him. “Oh Bernie, you are capable of much more than you think you are.”


	4. Something about the way

Elton knew hiding away wasn’t the answer, but dammit all if he hadn’t needed some time away. He sat at the window of his small (for him) hotel suite, thankful he had paid the reception desk enough to keep the phone calls from being forwarded to the suite. He took a long pull from the bottle of whisky in his hand, knowing without question how disappointed Bernie and Ray and even John would be in him right now.

Hell, he was disappointed with himself, if he was honest.

The same old thing always happened. The same old thing always surprised him when it finally happened. He had heard long ago the spiel that it was silly to do the same thing over and over and expect a different result. That was what had happened when his one finger of gin, just to take the edge of the argument off enough for him to actually relax, turned into two, turned into half a bottle before he even realized what was happening. 

He had passed out in the reclining chair by the window and hadn’t really left his perch since.

Gods, but he was a mess. Bernie was the glue that held him together, and had been for some time… He began to sing softly, staring out the window, feeling more alone than ever before.

“ There was a time

I was everything and nothing all in one

When you found me

I was feeling like a cloud across the sun

I need to tell you

How you light up every second of the day

But in the moonlight

You just shine like a beacon on the bay…”

Bernie may not have written that song for him, but every time he sang it, he sang it for Bernie. He had yet to play Bernie the finished product, whether he was scared or thought it plain rubbish he couldn’t be sure, not in this state at least. He looked towards the telephone, a longing he couldn’t describe overwhelming him. He got unsteadily to his feet, still humming the tune aloud, as he focused on his feet. He sat on the bed and picked up the telephone, dialing the only number he had ensured he memorized.

*****************

“‘I’m safe, haven’t called John, don’t fret over me, love you, call back later.’”

Bernie rewound the message once again.

“It’s not going to change, Bernie,” Ray said, watching Bernie’s smile as he heard Elton’s voice once again. The first smile Ray had seen on Bernie’s face since that wretched man had turned tail and ran off when it suited him. He rolled his eyes when Bernie rewound the tape once again. “I’ll just be in my room while you continue to play his voice over and over again like the lovesick fool you are.”

“Get out of my house,” Bernie murmured, rewinding the tape again.

“Excuse me?”

“Get out of my fucking house, Raymond,” Bernie replied, standing up straight. “You have done nothing but drone on since I accepted Reggie back into my life. You may have done well in keeping me alive, and for that I will always appreciate you, but by driving him away you have done nothing to keep me happy. Just because you wouldn’t know how to love someone doesn’t mean you can continue with this bullshite day after day. So, get out of my fucking house.”

Ray only gaped at him.

“I’m going to my room and trying to figure out where he is. When I come out, I expect you gone. I love you, Raymond, I really do, but I can’t keep this game up anymore. I need some time. Your jealousy has gotten out of hand. Come back when you’ve figured it out, alright, mate?”

Bernie clapped the man on the shoulder as he passed him, still smiling slightly. Elton was alright. Elton hadn’t run back to John. Elton would call back later, and he would be waiting for him, if he didn’t find him first.


	5. Lost and Found

Bernie walked down the long hallway, his trembling hands stuck deep in his pockets. It had taken a bit of work, and a lot of money, but he had finally found where Elton was hiding. He stopped outside the door and breathed in deep. He smelled the pungent odor of alcohol, vomit, and cigarettes, just as he knew he would. He had been fretting over his lover’s state for days now, and to know all his worst fears came true almost calmed him. He knew how to deal with a dipping Reggie. He knew how to deal with a drunk Reggie. He knew how to deal with a morose Reggie. 

If he found anything else he might have had to question his own sanity…

He tried the knob and frowned when it opened freely. He heard the whining of poor Amoreena just inside, who must have smelled his cologne from under the door. He took a deep breath and entered the room. He stooped down and picked up the poor pug with a sigh. “What’s your Daddy gotten himself into this time, eh?,” he asked, scratching between her ears and cuddling her close to his chest. He looked around the room and his frown deepened. 

Reg was passed out in the reclining chair, empty liquor bottles surrounding him from all sides. He was thankful the man had at least the sense to buy puppy pads for Amoreena so he might get his deposit back at the end of the stay. He set Amoreena on the bed and began to set the room up proper.

The motions of cleaning the room gave Bernie time to figure out what he was even going to say when Reg awoke. It gave him time to consider the possibility that perhaps this _was_ Reggie. That perhaps there was no changing the poor man, and he would drink himself into the grave before Bernie could stop him. That perhaps any semblance of sobriety would always be fleeting, because he just could _not_ stop.

Bernie shuddered, the tune ‘funeral for a friend’ playing unwittingly within his mind’s eye.

Once the last bottle was thrown in the rubbish bin, and the last clean puppy pad was put down, Bernie bundled Reggie into his arms and laid him under the duvet. He placed a small bin nearby for Reg when he woke up and his stomach rolled before he could make it to the toilet. Bernie didn’t much want to have to deep clean any vomit come morning. 

He got in on the other side and held him close, breathing in his unique scent, a smile on his face. He ensured Amoreena was still on the bed, pressed close between them, before shutting his eyes as well.

If Reggie hadn’t awoke when Bernie carried him to the bed, he wouldn’t be waking anytime soon, which meant he could nap for a bit as well. The worry he had been dealing with all week had exhausted him.

*******************

Bernie woke to the sound of retching, and Amoreena whining. He blinked once, twice, three times, hoping to make sense of the situation. _Right. Found Reggie. Drunk as a skunk. Being sick,_ he thought, rubbing Elton’s back gently as he continued to puke into the bucket. Each time the man tried to turn around and see who was with him, another round of throwing up would occur.

Bernie was certain it was maddening.

“It’s me, love. I’m here,” Bernie said. “You couldn’t honestly think I wouldn’t find you. And you can’t honestly think I’m leaving right now.” He saw Elton’s shoulders begin to shake, the tell all sign that he was crying. “Shhh, love. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay, I swear it.”

“‘m s-ry,” Elton somehow managed to say between rounds of retching.

“I know, love. And it’s okay. You haven’t ran me off. I’m still right here. Let’s get you into the bath now, love. You smell like you haven’t bathed since you left me. You always feel better after a bath, don’t you?,” Bernie responded, getting out of bed. “Come on, love, let’s get you feeling better, yeah?”

“A-alright,” Elton stuttered, allowing Bernie to help him to his feet. 

The fact there was blood streaming from his nose and that there was blood in the small trash bin was ignored for now, as difficult as it was to do. Bernie needed to be strong for his Reggie now, and even the thought of the blood made Bernie want to cry himself.

His Reggie was killing himself, and didn’t much care.

So Bernie had to care for the both of them. 

Once again.


	6. Going home

“I settled up your tab here, Reggie. Let’s go home, yeah? Raymond should be gone.” Bernie began to laugh, albeit hysterically. “I kicked him out, can you believe it? After all he’s done for me, I kicked him out, just like you do to me all the time. I couldn’t handle his attitude anymore. You’re my lover, and I couldn’t deal with  _ his _ attitude anymore. Christ…”

Elton smiled slightly. “I’ve rubbed off on you, it seems. You didn’t need to settle up the tab, Bern. I would have done it. I have a crisp credit card just begging to be used, you see. Piss John right off, it will, when he pays my bills next month. Three weeks in a hotel room when I could have just ran straight to him.”

Bernie gulped. “You… wouldn’t have ran to him if it was an option, would you?”

Elton shrugged. “I didn’t, did I? I could have found him if I really wanted to,” he said, almost petulantly. 

Like he deserved a good job or something for not going back to the man who abused him, mentally and physically, for years. The man who had their friends rape him because he was becoming too ‘wild’. The man who controlled every aspect of his career with an iron fist.

Yeah, because Bernie would reward him for keeping himself safe…

“I’m glad you didn’t, love,” he said quietly, instead. He picked up Amoreena from her makeshift bed in the corner and forced a smile on his face. “Well, let’s head back, yeah? Levon has missed you both, and is ready for some warm kisses and cuddles.”

Elton shook his head, returning his gaze out the window. There wasn’t much to see from this height other than the side of the building, but anything was better than Bernie’s earnest face at the moment. “I think it’s best if you return without me, Bern. Take Amoreena with you. She deserves more than I can give her right now. You deserve more than I can give you.”

“I’m not leaving without you, Reggie. I know you will kill yourself the moment I leave you behind, and I will not allow that.”

Elton snorted. “You won’t ‘allow’ that, eh? I think I am well out of your hands now, Bernie. Your need to do such good will be the death of us both if you stay with me now.” Elton closed his dressing gown tight around his body, the slight discomfort grounding him for the time being. “Go and find Ray, make things right between you, and forget you ever knew me, Bernie. You’ll be much better off.”

“You can’t honestly think I can do that, do you?,” Bernie whispered. 

“Do or don’t, Bernie. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Bernie shook his head. “I’m going to bring your things down to my truck. Then I will be coming back and getting you. If you leave before I return, I am fully through. I’ve done all I can for you. It’s time for you to grow the bloody fuck up and give a damn about yourself before no one else does.”

Bernie slammed the door shut, leaving Elton’s suitcase by the door. He knew the moment he could, Elton would run and find a new place to hole up. He hid at the end of the hallway, nodding to himself when Elton grabbed his suitcase and made his way unsteadily to the elevator.  _ Off to Reid, off to die, and me… Just off.  _

He held back his grief until he made it to his truck. Letting Elton get into the taxicab alone was the hardest thing he had ever done.

*************

“Hey, Ma… I’m coming home for a while, if that’s alright? Good good… Be there as soon as I can get a flight out… Yeah, I’m just fucking dandy… No, no I’m not.”


	7. Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word

“ _ What have I got to do, to make you want me. _ Well, he  _ did _ want me, flaws and all…

“ _ What have I got to do, to be heard. _ He always listened to me, didn’t he? Even when I made no sense whatsoever.

“ _ What do I say, when it’s all over. _ I’m a fucking fool who sabotages everything he touches?

“ _ Sorry, seems to be the hardest word. _ That it fucking is…”

Elton sighed, glaring at the words scribbled on the page, wondering just when he became a damn poet… “And it’s getting more and more absurd…,” he wrote slowly, a frown on his face, the frown which seemed to be a permanent fixture as of late. He leaned back on his pillows. He folded his much too thin arms across the front of his dressing gown and glared at the wall. “It really is, innit? I had everything I had ever wanted, and what did I do? Threw it away for this.”

“I’m rather annoyed you keep talking, love. Shut the bloody fuck up for a bit, won’tcha? It’s bloody two in the morning,” came the sleepy voice beside him. 

Elton glared down at him too. “I’d rather you didn’t talk at all,  _ love _ . I just needed a bloody lay. Not your voice,” Elton grumbled, pushing John’s head off of his pillows. “Budge over. You’re too close to me.”

“Says the man who begged me to fuck him and then cuddle him mere hours ago,” John groused back, lifting his head slightly. “Listen, Elton, I get it. We are not and never will be together again, but after getting in my car and coming here at midnight to satisfy your  _ craving _ , I think I deserve a quick nap before I leave again.”

“Fine. Nap away. I’ll be in my study drinking until I pass out, thanks,” Elton replied, getting to his feet. “Hope the door hits you and all that once you leave.”

John chuckled. “Always the comedian, eh?,” he said, turning over to face the wall. He was quiet for just a moment. “Oh, and Elton? That song you’re writing? It will be a hit once it’s finished. It’s quite good.”

“Of course it will be a hit. I touched it…,” Elton replied, a half smile on his face. “That’s what you always said. Anything I touch turns to gold… I wish you really meant it.” Elton shook his head. “Have a good life. I won’t ring you again.”

“I did mean it, love. I meant every word,” he replied, after hearing the door shut behind him. “And I ruined it, just like you did with Taupin. One in the same, we are.”

  
  
  


**********************

  
  


“Bernie, love, you have mail!”

Bernie groaned, pushing his head further into his pillow. He couldn’t imagine who would have figured out just where he was hiding, though, and it nagged him enough he got up out of bed for the first time in days. He threw on an old teeshirt and mesh shorts from his suitcase and tied his hair back in a semblance of order. He didn’t want his mother fretting more than she already was.

When he left the farm at seventeen, he never expected to return. When his father passed away, he was conveniently on tour with Reggie in Russia and couldn’t make it back for the funeral. What would have happened if he left Reg to his own devices in Russia of all places?, he had asked his mother, and she quite agreed. But now, at thirty-eight, he was back in Lincolnshire, in his childhood bedroom, wallowing in self pity.

He slipped his slippers on his feet before making his way to the sitting room. He did his best to smile at his mother when he entered, but by the frown on her face he knew it was unsuccessful. “Do you know who it’s from, Ma?,” he asked, sitting beside her on the sofa.

Daphne shook her head. “It feels like a cassette tape.”

Bernie groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Of course it’s a fucking cassette tape,” he muttered, grabbing the package out of her hands. “I should have known he’d find me. I should have known he’d pretend everything was okay. I should have just fucking known…”

“Bernard Taupin, please watch your language,” Daphne scolded lightly, before nodding towards the stereo. “Go on then. Pop it in. Let’s see what he’s sent you, eh?”

Bernie groaned once again. “Fine, fine. Let’s see what bullshite he’s sent me. I know I haven’t sent him anything to write along to in two years. This ought to be grand…”

And it  _ was _ grand, even if Bernie ended up crying in his mother’s arms like a small child not even halfway through.


	8. My Reason

_Dear Notebook,_

_You seem to have become my only friend as of late. My telephone rings beside me over and over again, and I wish I had the strength to even take it off the hook. John hired some help for the house after seeing the squallor I had grown used to, but I don’t speak to them. I am paying them to clean and cook meals I refuse to eat because my body has rejected almost everything I put in it now._

_I am weak and weary and ready for the end._

_John has stopped by a few times to check to see if I am still alive. I don’t know why he bothers. He will still be collecting his twenty percent long after I die, as he’s stated numerous times. I should call a fucking lawyer and have that contract terminated, but that would require speaking to someone, and I might be just be being petulant, but I’d really rather not do so._

_My life is a blackhole._

_Bernie must have gotten the cassette by now. I sent it out with the mail months ago. I wouldn’t be surprised if the calls I am ignoring_ are _him, wanting to speak. I sent it to his mother’s house because well… If anyone would know where he would be, it would be Ma Taupin, because he certainly isn’t at his Ranch._

_Not that I’ve been there… More than three times hoping to see his face through the window…_

_I don’t know if perhaps I am waiting for him to come here, and that is why I can’t bring myself to answer the phone, or eat, or do anything but lay in bed and drink the liquor and snort the powder and inject the liquids that somehow make it to my bedside table whilst I am sleeping. Perhaps I should be more weary when it appears, but Gods, it just feels so good._

_I want to die._

  
  


************************

  
  


Bernie walked down the hallway, his hands deep in his trouser pockets. He received word from John fucking Reid of all people that he needed to pull his head out of his arse and make his way to the Medical Center. Reid had dumped Reggie there after finding him almost drowned in his own bloodied vomit when he went to pick him up for a rehearsal. Reid needed to go and cancel the shows overseas and make Reg’s apologies, and someone needed to be with him, apparently, so here Bernie was in the last place he wished to be.

Bernie didn’t realize Reg had planned to start up touring again, after the sixth time he ‘quit’. He wondered if Reg was doomed to always repeat the same mistakes. He wondered if there was something in his brain that was imbalanced, and that was why he continued making the same decisions, and hurting everyone around him in the process.

Even Reid was pretty heartbroken from the sound of it, and Bernie could have sworn the man didn’t even have one.

He opened the door and stood in the doorway. Reggie looked so small hooked up to all the machines. He didn’t think he looked that small the last time he was hospitalized. He took a much needed breath and entered the room. Sitting beside the bed, he took Reg’s thankfully warm hand into his own and brought it to his lips. “I love you, you stupid twat. I love everything about you. From your smile, to how your eyes light up after creating masterpieces, to your body, to your mind, and to your very soul. I even love your selfish nature and your bloody self-sabotage. You best get well, love. I can’t live without you.”

  
  


**********************

  
  


“You came…”

“Of course I came, nitwit.”

“I didn’t think…”

“You never do, do you?”

Elton flinched. “No, I suppose not.”

Bernie smiled at him kindly, squeezing the hand he had been holding for days now. “I wouldn’t have you any other way, love,” he said softly. “Rest now, love. I will still be here when you wake up again. I am not leaving you, and you can’t run from me this time, can ya? Hooked up to all these machines.”

“More’s the pity, eh?,” Elton asked, smiling back at him, and allowing his eyes to close once more.

Bernie caressed his thumb over Elton’s hand. “Nope. Quite happy about it, really. I’ve missed you, love. I… I don’t think I can continue to live without you.”

“Good. Because I don’t want to live without you. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you in my life, no matter how difficult… You… You are my reason.”

“One day, _you_ will be your reason. I swear it.”


	9. Darkness to Light

“There’s something wrong with me.”

“Well, you’ve always been nuttier than a fruitcake, mate.”

“That’s not what I mean!”

“Then what did you mean?”

Elton huffed, folding his arms across his chest, doing his best to keep the pout from his face. “Nevermind,” he replied. “I’m not talking to you anymore, Bernie.”

Bernie chuckled. “Whatever, mate. I know what you’re talking about.”

Elton lowered his arms. “You do?”

Bernie nodded. “I have been thinking about it since John rang me, love. I think there is something in your brain that is wired to continue to go back to the things that will harm you. Unless you allow the doctors to do their job, you’ll never find out, though. So it’s up to you whether you want to go through with it or continue on the path of destructive behaviour you are so keen on continuing.”

Elton sighed. “I don’t know what I want.”

Bernie nodded again. “I know, love. It’s hard. It’s so fucking hard to leave it behind you. I know from experience. It took a long time for me to realize just how fucked my life became when I was dipping and drinking. I lost everything, Reg. I lost my wife. I lost my lover. I lost my best friend. And I even lost my job for a period of time. You don’t have to worry about that, love. You will have so much more gained if you choose to stop this madness. But it’s up to you.”

“You never lost me, Bernie. Not really. Even when I was out of your life, you were the only thing on my mind.”

“And you mine.”

They beamed at each other. “Just… Get well, Reg. Whatever road that takes. Get well. For me. For you. For everyone who’s ever loved you.”

“Except John. Fucking wanker, he is…”

Bernie couldn’t contain his laughter.

  
  


*************************

  
  


_ Dear Notebook, _

_ I’m back in the guest room at Bernie’s house. I have made it more homey. I have hung up my favorite pictures from the past and a few of our records. It has helped me realize what I would be giving up if I go back to the bottle or the drug. I don’t spend all my time in the guest room, though. I do venture out for meals and spend quite a few nights a week in Bernie’s bedroom when the cravings get too bad and I don’t trust myself not to hop in my car and head to the nearest package store/dealer. _

_ John has rang me up a few times asking if I plan to go back to work. I’ve told him to fuck off.  _

_ Bernie and I have been writing together, like we used to. It has been freeing to have a clear mind again when I sit behind the keys. I know he is listening outside my door when I begin my part, and I don’t find it half as intimidating as I used to. I am learning that I can write, even without the drink or the drug, and that my fear was unfounded. I think this might be our best yet. _

_ I rang up Davey, Nigel, and both Ray’s to apologize for my behaviour. They have all forgiven me and are willing to work with me once again, if I ever choose to actually release anything. I might be able to write well enough right, but I still don’t know if it’s something I would release.  _

_ Bernie bought me a shiny typewriter for my 42nd birthday. I have been writing about my life thus far, and perhaps I will release a memoir at some point. My story might help someone. That must be the reason for the shitshow I dealt with for so long. If not, then I request a reimbursement for all the pain and heartache I have dealt with for so long… _

Elton smiled slightly at his ramblings, his pen hovering over the page. He never thought he’d get to this place. The place in which he could find humor in all that he had had to handle over the years. But here he was, smiling at the blasted notebook, full of good humor rather than the depression he had been in as of late.

_ I think I’m going to be okay this time. I think I’m going to be able to continue the good fight. I attend meetings with Bernie. I go to my therapy sessions. I take my medications as prescribed. Bernie loves me with his whole heart, and I him with mine. I think this time, whatever comes our way, can be vanquished. Where there was darkness, there is now light. And I will allow that light to lead me, one step at a time. _


	10. Mistakes and Hopes for a future

There were good days, such as this, that Elton could pretend everything was fine. That he could pretend none of the last year had happened, and that they were _normal._ He could pretend that neither of them had addiction issues, or depression, or even attempted suicide at any point in their lives. He could pretend that their life was fucking grand and that they deserved each bit of happiness bestowed upon them.

*

Elton stood at the kitchen island, chopping the vegetables Bernie set in front of him with ease. If anyone had told him months ago he would be able to wield a knife that wasn’t cutting open his skin, he’d have laughed. If anyone had told him months ago he would find comfort in the kitchen, and could actually cook simple meals for himself now, he’d have called them nutty. If anyone had told him he would not only be eating healthy food regularly but keeping it down _and_ losing weight at the same time, he’d have put _them_ in the bloody ward.

But… It happened. Somehow, it had happened.

Bernie took the carrots and celery from the cutting board and threw them in the pot of soup they were making. It was rather chilly for California, and Bernie decided that morning he’d be making his Ma’s chicken soup and _Elton, darling, will you help me please?_ So of course, rather than working on his memoir, he was standing in the kitchen, a half smile on his face, watching as Bernie almost danced around the kitchen to music only he could hear.

“Bernie, love?,” Elton asked, watching him take a small spoon and dipping it into their concoction, his smile widening.

“Yes, Elton?,” Bernie asked, grinning back at him.

Elton wrapped his arms around Bernie’s shoulders, beaming when Bernie wrapped his arms around his waist. “I am so in love with you.”

“And I am so in love with you,” Bernie replied, holding him close and kissing him on the forehead.

*

There were also bad days. Days in which he could get out of bed in the morning. Days in which he snapped at every little inconvenience. Days in which he refused to attend meetings or therapy or eat. Days in which he locked himself in the guest bedroom and pretended not to hear the pleading of numerous people, no more than Bernie, on the other side of the door. He hated those days, and spent most of them under the duvet and asleep. 

That was… Until he almost lost his love.

*

Bernie didn’t know what to do anymore. It had been a week since Elton had locked himself in the bedroom, and Bernie cursed himself for ever installing a lock on the door in the first place. He knew a low was coming. He had seen all the bloody signs, but he had hoped so hard that his worry was unfounded, and had ignored them all. 

Bernie had been up for days. He hadn’t been able to stomach food with all his damn fretting. Each time he took his pills with water even they came back up. Bernie had rang Ray up and asked him to come and stay for a little while, because while he ignored Elton’s spiral, he couldn’t afford to ignore his own. Someone needed to be strong for Elton. It was his fucking job to be strong for Elton. He couldn’t fail.

But he did fail. And he failed hard.

Bernie went for a drive one evening when he couldn’t sleep. Bernie stopped at the same package store he stopped in at those years ago. He drove to the pier, again, and drank until he was finally numb, and then drank some more. The burn of the whisky felt so _good_ , he just couldn’t stop. He wanted to stop thinking. He wanted to stop feeling. He wanted to just _be_ for a while.

That was his mistake.

*

“He is in a medically induced coma. I don’t know when he will wake.”

The _if_ was left out, and for that, at least, Elton was grateful. He watched as the nurse adjusted the tubes (the bloody fucking tubes that seemed to be coming out of every part of Bernie), wrote some things in indecipherable scribble on his chart, and then left the room without another word. He scrubbed his face with his hand, the tears still falling unchecked after so many hours, and let out one of the unmanly sob that had been threatening to burst forth all damn day.

He then glared at Ray, who looked much too put together in his opinion across the room, when their best mate could be dying.

“Oh Bernie, you can’t leave me now. I just got over the last time you left me. I can’t do it again,” Elton murmured, taking his cold hand in his own and bringing it to his lips, deciding once and for all to just ignore the man across the room. “I told you to come to me. I told you to bloody come to me before it got this bad. And you didn’t…”

“Not that you were available, were you?,” Ray grumbled, folding his arms across his chest, and glaring at Elton.

“I would have been if he had told me,” he hissed, anger taking the place of his melancholy quickly. “And where the fuck were you, Raymond? He said he would only call you if he had no other option. I gave him no other option, it seems. So answer me? Where the bloody fuck were you when it became too much for him, hmm?”

“I was trying to get through to you, you fucking arsehole. That’s where Bernie wanted me to be. He wanted to make sure you were alright. I spent the whole day talking to you through the door, remember? I spent the whole day telling myself that after just a wee bit longer, you’d budge. I wanted to pick the lock and pull you up by the hair, but Bernie begged me not to. He begged me to let you come out on your own time. And I ended up having to pick the lock anyway because with all my attention on you, Bernie snuck off and almost fucking _died._ And we don’t even know why.”

Elton couldn’t hold back his sobs anymore. “I’m not angry at you. Not really. I just don’t know how to deal with what’s going on in me head,” he managed to get out between the rounds of sobs that threatened to overtake him. “John used to tell me I was a self-indulgent prick all the time. I never believed him. But I am, aren’t I?”

Ray nodded. “You truly are, Elton, but you are still deeply loved by so many people. None more so than Bernie, though.” Ray leaned forward in his chair. “I promise you he will get through this. I promise you that you will get through this, too. I promise you that no matter how hard the process of recovery is, I will be there for you both. You will make it. You’re stronger together, so don’t lose hope, Elton. Don’t fucking lose hope. Alright?” Elton nodded. “Say the words, mate. Make it a contract to yourself.”

“I won’t lose hope,” he whispered, looking down at Bernie’s prone form. “And neither will he. We won’t lose hope.


	11. Questions

Elton was ready to climb the fucking walls of the hospital room. Bernie still stubbornly kept his eyes shut, no matter how much pleading Elton and Raymond did at his bedside. Raymond left only to get them the overpriced and terrible meals at the canteen and boy, did Elton miss their evenings dancing in the kitchen while they made edible meals for each other.

Each time Elton felt that maybe he should go home and take a wash and shave, Bernie showed some signs of hearing him. He knew if any of his fans saw him now he would be unrecognizable, and he relished in that. “So when do you think he’s going to wake up? It’s been a week, yeah?”

“It should be soon, the doctor said just a couple of hours ago, didn’t he?,” Raymond asked, turning the page of his book he had spent the week not really reading, his mind elsewhere.

“Yes, he did, didn’t he?,” he replied absentmindedly, carding his fingers through Bernie’s hair. “I hope he’s right.” Elton sighed deeply. “Why do we keep doing this to ourselves, hmm? Just when things get better. Just when things seem like they couldn’t get any better, shit like this happens to one of us. Are we just destined for heartache?”

Ray shrugged. “That’s something you need to discuss between each other. You bring out the best, and the worst in each other. It’s something you need to discuss with each other, _when_ he wakes up, Elton.”

He nodded once. “I’m going to go home and wash up. I can’t stand myself right now. I’ll be back in a little bit, alright?”

“No problem. I’ll ring you if anything changes.”

Elton shoved his hands in his pockets and made his way to the lift. _You caused this, is what Raymond meant. You caused this, and if you weren’t a part of his life, nothing like this would happen. There is a reason you keep leaving, because you know deep down Bernie would be better without you in his life. Everyone would be better off without you._

  
  


***

  
  


Elton handed John a tumbler of his favorite scotch and sat on the couch beside him. He had washed, and shaved, and brushed out his hair so he looked almost human once again. He brought his own glass of water to his lips as he watched John sip leisurely at the scotch. “I’m ready to go back to work, John. Thank you for being so patient.”

John looked at him strangely. “You’ve had a rough time of it as of late with you own health, and I’ve heard from Williams that little Taupin is in the hospital right now. Are you certain now is the time to go back to work, Elton?”

Elton nodded. “Yes. Bernie will get better faster without me to hinder him. Maybe him and Raymond can get together and have a nice little family. He’s much better for him than I am certainly. So, what will we do first?”

“I suppose we should get you into the studio and finish the album. I’ll make some calls and see if we can do the shows we had to cancel before. But Elton, I’m not doing this and then having you decide last minute it needs to be canceled again because if we do, your name will be tarnished forever. Understand?”  
“Yes, I understand.”

“Okay then. I’ll get started on that and ring you when I have it set up. Do I ring you here or at little Taupin’s place?”  
“Here is fine. I’m not so certain I’ll be seeing Bernie again.”

John shook his head. “I’m not getting into that. Not my circus, not my monkeys and all that. I’ll ring you in a few days.”

Elton nodded. Watching John leave the sitting room of the house they shared for years was like a punch to the gut. “Why couldn’t you have loved me? I certainly loved you,” he asked softly, bringing his knees to his chest. “All I ever wanted was to be loved. By anyone. Why did you only hurt me?”

Elton flinched when John walked back in the room. “I didn’t think you’d hear me,” Elton whispered, bringing his knees to his chest and hiding his face within them.

“I was young, and very very stupid,” John began, sitting beside Elton on the sofa. “I thought I was doing what you needed… wanted… But instead I was only doing what I wanted. I hurt you numerous times, physically, emotionally… I was a relentless bully. But truth be told, Elton, I did love you then, in my own way. I still _do_ love you. I’m just happy you are still in my life when I should have been locked away for what I’ve done to you… You have allowed me life that I don’t deserve, because you are so selfless at times it makes me sick.”

Elton couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that came from that. “I thought I was a self-indulgent prick.”

John smiled, caressing Elton’s face with his thumb. “You are that, as well. God, we are a pair made in hell, aren’t we?”

Elton nodded, a half smile on his face and tears streaming from his eyes. “That’s what I always said. Kiss me, please. Show me you mean what you said, please. Show me that I am worthy of love, in your own way. I need that right now.”

John frowned. “You’re with Taupin now, aren’t you? I’m not going to kiss you if you are with Taupin. You are much happier with him then you ever were with me.”

Elton shook his head. “No, he’s better off without me. Everyone is better off without me. Even you. You see I…”

John captured Elton’s lips in a kiss that could only be described as electrifying. He seemed to pour every emotion he had ever felt into it, and Elton felt like he was floating within the clouds. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so wanted, so needed, so free. This was what his kisses with Bernie were missing. This was what his life with Bernie was missing: this freedom... This captivity... This redemption... This craving…

Which now brokered the questions... Was it worth it? Could their past be forgotten easily, and could their love blossom like it had before? Elton thought that kiss was what he needed to answer all the questions that he couldn't answer, but instead he left with even _more_ questions...

Jesus Christ, he forgot how well this man could kiss...

***

_ Dear Notebook _ ,

_ Bernie woke up yesterday, and I was too busy fucking John to be there for him. Ray rang me over and over again until John finally answered the bloody phone. I don’t think I will be able to show my face to either of  _ them _ anytime in the near future. Sure, John told him he was here discussing work and I was currently indisposed (which I suppose was true considering I was hiding my face under the pillow with John still deep inside me…), and I ensured to say the same thing when I finally took the phone from John’s hand, but GOD DAMMIT why does this shit always happen to me?  _

_ I told John it best if he left even though neither of us actually got off, because I don’t know what the fuck I am actually doing in any case. I am just so lonely that I decided the past didn’t fucking matter. I decided what he did to me over the years didn’t fucking matter. I just wanted to feel for a moment. Now I’ve drunk most of my back up supplies just so I can feel numb again because I always make the worst decisions when I am sober, it seems. _

_ It’s supposed to be the other way around, isn’t it? I should be able to blame my stupidity on the drink. Every bad decision I’ve made lately is because I was sober. Ridiculous. _

_ I should go see Bernie and tell him the truth. I should go see Bernie and tell him he’s better off without me. That he’s better off without the shitshow Elton John brings. He deserves so much more than I can give him. I deserve much more than I give myself. I deserve… _

“John, and all the shit that goes with it,” he whispered, throwing his journal against the wall with a high pitched screech. “Why am I this way? Why do I throw everything good away when it gets tough? Why do I think myself so unworthy of love, actual love, that I’d rather fuck the man who has used me and disposed of me more times than I can count?

“‘Don’t tell Taupin’, he told me, after he finished dressing. Like he knew that Bernie was better for me than he ever could be. So I won’t. I won’t tell him about this, and I won’t tell him he’s better off without me and leave him stranded like I usually do. I’ll be there for him, help him, put myself out of my own mind, and do right by him.

“Because without him, my life is not worth living.”


	12. Life goes on

“I have something I need to tell you.”

“As do I, actually.”

“You first.”

“Why me?”

Elton shrugged. “Because you started the conversation, didn’t you?”

“I supposed I did,” Bernie replied before sighing and folding his hands in his lap. “I have been thinking long and hard about this, and I… I think it best if we… If we…”

“Break up?,” Elton finished, his voice as light as he could make it.

Bernie nodded. “Yes… I think… As much I love you, Reg, and I really do, it seems we bring out the very worst in each other, yeah? Raymond says you agree?” Elton nodded, not trusting himself to speak, because of course  _ Ray _ ’s name would be mentioned in their breakup conversation... “I think… Well, we are both too broken for each other, aren’t we? We need more than the other can give. You need someone whole, Reg. And I’m… I’m not it.”

Elton sat silently, watching Bernie fidget on the bed, trying to think of something to say. When he came up empty, he got up and left the hospital room, ignoring Bernie’s shouts behind him.

***

Elton woke up encased in John’s arms, and felt worse than he had when Bernie broke up with him. He carefully made his way off the bed without waking John, and threw on the first outfit he found. He looked at John for a moment, wishing he could feel something, anything at all, before walking out of John’s flat without a word.

***

Elton stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, his joint burning sweetly between his fingers. The phone continued to ring beside him but he couldn’t bring himself to answer it. He couldn’t bring himself to do a lot of things lately. Once the ringing finally ceased, he took it off the hook.

Maybe now he could finally rest.

***

“Hi, my name is Elton, and I’ve missed some appointments. I.. I was hoping to set up something to speak with someone? I’m… I’m unwell... Yes, I’ll hold.”

***

Elton sat in the back of the room, listening to the speaker with half an ear. It was the first time he had been to a meeting in months. He tapped his trainer on the linoleum, the steady movement keeping him centered. He listened as the man spoke of his life since he last took a drink, how well everything had been, and Elton yearned for that. He yearned for some sort of happiness, no matter how fleeting.

The silver chip felt heavy in his pocket when he exited the meeting an hour later.  _ This chip represents AA's commitment to you... not your commitment to us _ , the man had said, and he was thankful he was expected to be committed just yet. Still, he was proud. 34 hours sober and one meeting under his belt.

He smiled the whole way to his car.

***

When Elton entered the coffee shop he didn’t really expect Bernie to be there. Even though Bernie had rang him up and asked to chat soon, Elton thought Bernie would have left him hanging. Seeing him sat at  _ their _ table made him smile. He sat at the table across from him and picked up the cup of straight black coffee Bernie had ordered for him. “I went back to therapy and even went to a meeting.”

Bernie beamed at him. “That’s wonderful, Reggie. You get your chip?”

Elton nodded, digging it out of the pocket of his jeans, beaming back at him. “Yes, I carry it everywhere like a little tit. I see why you carry yours. It really makes me stop and think when I really want a drink.”

Bernie nodded. “Yes, it does, doesn’t it? Easier to say no when you really want to say yes.” Bernie took a sip of his coffee. “You look… You look good, Elton.”

Elton shrugged. “I’ve been clean and eating and even keeping it down. You’d be so proud of my progress. I’ve even learned some tricks from my home cook so I can make even more meals now.”

“I am always proud of you, Reg.”

Elton flushed scarlet. He knew that, of course, but it still made him uncomfortable when Bernie voiced it. “You shouldn’t be, but I thank you all the same.” He nodded towards Bernie’s hand. “I see a ring. What’s with that?”

“Heather and I… We… We married two months ago. I sent you an invitation that got returned unopened.”

Elton nodded. “Yes, I told my maid to ensure the phone was off the hook and all mail got returned to the sender when I was…” He waved his hand. “Anyways, good for you, Bernie. I’m glad.”

“And you, Elton? Anyone in your life?”

Elton smiled. “No, not yet. I’m not actively looking. When I do, I find guys like John, or John himself, and it’s… I’m just… Not ready.”

“He’s out there, you know. The man for you. He’s waiting for you just as you are him. When you find him, you’ll know.”

_ I thought you were the one for me, Bernie. I thought John was the one for me. Hell, I thought the janitor at the hotel was the one for me. Obviously, I won’t find the one for me easily, if ever. _

“I asked you to meet with me because… Well… I’m going to be a father, Reggie, and I’d love to make you godfather, if you are willing.”

“Me?,” he squeaked, appalled.

Bernie smiled. “Heather and I don’t think there is anyone better suited for the job. At least think about it, yeah?”

“Yeah… I’ll… I’ll think about it, mate. Wow.”

“I know.”

They beamed at each other, and for the first time, Elton really thought their friendship would actually be alright. He thought that perhaps, even if they were not romantically involved, they could still be what each other needed.

And for the first time, Elton realized what Bernie meant when he said one day, he himself would be his own reason for living, because really, why else should he bother? He needed to love himself to be able to love anyone else.

And he was getting there, in his own time.


	13. Learning to live

_Dear notebook,_

_I seemed to have forgotten you existed during my months long pity party. So much has happened since I last wrote in you, and the more I think about it, the more my head spins…_

_My best mate got married without me. My best mate, my ex fucking boyfriend, got fucking married, to a bloody woman, without me by his side. He sent me an invitation, which I suppose the maid returned as directed unopened, and I was too doped up to notice. I was too doped up to notice much of anything, it seems. She’s pregnant, and he asked me to be the tot’s Godfather, which took me by surprise. I never imagined anyone would want me to have any part of a child’s life, with my past and present, and presumably, my lack of future._

_Perhaps that was why Bernie decided to ask me. Perhaps by asking he supposed it would give me a reason to keep pressing on this road of sobriety. A reason more than a silly chip would give me. I hate that I can’t even just accept it without thinking of every possible angle Bernie might have by asking me. I hate that I can’t trust anyone, because I can’t trust myself anymore._

_I need a bloody drink…_

_********_

_Dear notebook,_

_John isn’t returning my calls. I thought hearing I was ready to go back to work would have been enough for him to ring me up. I heard from Tony he’s found a nice young lady to warm his bed and even though I want nothing to do with him romantically it still hurts me more than I expected. Everyone I know has finally settled down, or at least found someone to spend their time with, and I am locked in my rooms with chinese takeout, alone._

_I was thinking about throwing a party, but I don’t know how to throw a party without the drink and the drug, nor would I know who to invite. Perhaps Tony can point me in the right direction. He’s been clean for years now. A nice dinner party. I’ll invite Bernie and Heather, and whoever Tony decides to bring with him._

_Maybe I’ll even eat with them… Sometimes I miss eating._

*******

_Dear Notebook,_

_My clothes are hanging off of me again. I might need to buy a new bloody wardrobe. I can’t bring myself to eat. I can’t bring myself to attend my therapy. I can’t bring myself to go to meetings. But I haven’t drank. I haven’t done any lines, or popped any pills. Maybe I can do this alone? Maybe I can deal with everything well enough that I don’t need to go to see anyone anymore. I don’t want to be around people, and my damn dinner party is tonight and I have NOTHING to wear. I can’t just cancel with such short notice. Tony thought it was such a brilliant idea he bought a bloody cake. He’s bringing some of his circle, who are clean, to my house this evening for dinner. My cook already has the roast in the oven, and all the vegetables and other sides are ready to go._

_Maybe I can host it from my bedroom, and allow them all to eat and mingle in the formal dining room without me? Bernie will be there, and he doesn’t usually mind cleaning up my messes, does it?_

_No, probably not the best of ideas..._

  
  


*****

  
  


_Dear Notebook,_

_I have a date. I don’t know how it happened. But I have a date!_

  
  


*****

“Oh, Bernie, what am I going to do?”

Bernie rolled his eyes as he folded his arms across his chest. “You are going to take a shower and get dressed in some real clothes. You fucking stink right now, mate. Dennis knows to stop and get that chinese takeout you mentioned on your way, and then you will go see David. You are going to have a brill’ time, mate. We just need to get you up and there.” Bernie stood up from the reclining chair in the corner of Elton’s bedroom. “So come now, come. Get in the bath, mate. You’ve got this.”

Elton covered his face with the duvet. “I don’t have ‘this’. I don’t even know what ‘this’ is, but I don’t have it,” came his muffled reply, and Bernie rolled his eyes again. He reached down and pulled the duvet off the bed. Elton glared up at him. “You tit, I was bloody hiding.”

“And now you aren’t. Jesus, Reg, you’ve been looking forward to this for days now. What’s changed?,” Bernie asked, running his fingers through his hair, annoyance prominent on his face.

“You,” Elton said softly, as he sat up quickly. He glared at Bernie even darker. “Bloody fucking _you,_ Bernie. We were in _love_ , weren’t we? Then you broke up with me, and found happiness with a bloody _woman_ . John was in _love_ with me, then he found happiness with a bloody _woman_. Why should I fucking bother trying when every man leaves me for a woman anyway.”

“Oh, Reg. That’s not how it happened, and I’m sorry you feel it did. Besides, David is not like me. David is not like John. He’s bloody normal. He’s stable. He’s the kind of man who will love you with his whole heart if given the chance to get to know you. I saw the way he was looking at you at the party. He wasn’t looking at _the_ Elton John. He was looking at _you_. He accepted your invitation, which means he must have some idea what he is getting into, but wants to get to know you. You just have to let him.”

“Why do you have to make bloody sense all of a sudden, mate?,” Elton grumbled, swinging his legs over the bed. “When this all goes wonky, I hope you don’t expect me to pick up the pieces myself.”

Bernie smiled at him. “Have I ever let that happen?”

***

In the end, he did not need Bernie to help him pick up the pieces.


	14. It's been a rough life... But it was worth it at the end.

Elton thought he had finally figured it out. He had just received the dark blue chip signifying six months of sobriety. He had been on a number of dates with different men, some good, some bad, and not made an utter fool of himself. He had been to his weekly therapy sessions without fail. His relationship with food had even improved! He could now eat without involuntarily vomiting directly after, so he didn’t even need to have the rubbish bin beside him whilst eating anymore. Things were finally going his way.

Fate, as usual, had a grand laugh at his expense.

He had returned from a rather subpar date and taken his cup of tea into the sitting room. He planned to spend the rest of his night looking over a set of lyrics Bernie had faxed to him that morning, getting a feel of the words before sitting in front of the piano, when he heard a knock on the front door. _I’m not expecting company… How odd,_ he thought, getting to his feet quickly and tying his dressing gown taut. _It’s bloody quarter after eleven, for Christ’s sake. It better be bloody important._

He found himself stomping to the door, his slippered feet making less of a ruckus than his usual footwear, of course, but it made him feel a wee bit better.

He opened the door to find Bernie, soaked to the bone from the unforecasted rain storm that had been going strong for hours, blood dripping down his face. He felt an unusual sense of deja vous suddenly, a weird role reversal from their lives all those years ago. He found himself leaning against the door frame before he fell flat on his face. “No where else to go?,” he asked, casually folding his arms across his chest.

“No where else I’d rather be, if you’ll allow,” Bernie countered with a one shoulder shrug. He smirked down at Elton. “It’s been a rough night.”

  
  


*****

Elton watched Bernie lift his steaming mug of hot chocolate to his lips. He nodded towards Bernie’s left hand. “The ring is gone,” he muttered, folding his own hands in his lap.

Bernie looked down at his hand. “Suppose it is.”

“What went wrong?,” Elton asked, doing his best to quell the butterflies in his stomach. He knew what had gone wrong with all of his almost-relationships: they weren’t the man sitting in front of him… He wondered if perhaps...

Bernie shrugged. “What went right, I think you mean… I married her because it was what was expected of me. I have lived my life doing what was expected of me, as you well know. I can’t keep doing what is expected of me. It’s killing me, Reggie. I…” Bernie ran his hand over his face, now cleaned of all the blood and dirt from... whatever had happened, and gave Elton a shaky smile. “I gave my mother what she wanted, ya know? Heather gave birth to a beautiful baby boy earlier this evening. His name is John Edward. I left shortly after birth and went to the pub with her brothers because well… Celebration and shit... It was there I realized that I couldn’t be what the boy needed. I couldn’t be what Heather needed, even. But maybe, just maybe, I can be what you needed… If you’ll let me.”

Elton felt his mouth drop open in surprise. He had been hoping for those words for almost a year, but he never actually expected to hear them. “You… What?,” he asked dumbly, unsure how exactly to respond.

“Will you take me back, Reg? Our… Our history is checkered, to put it lightly. But… But you are my everything. You have always been, since the day you showed up drunk on my doorstep at bleeding 2 in the morning. It just took me almost twenty years to figure it out. I can’t live without you, Reg. I…”

Elton interrupted Bernie’s spiel with a passionate kiss.

  
  


*****

“So why were you covered in blood when you showed up last night?”

Bernie snorted, holding Elton closer to him. “I ran into the doorway when I tried to run out of the pub. Was a bit drunker than I thought, I suppose. A nice bloke helped to my feet and opened the door. Kept the brothers back too, which was good. They are huge men... To be honest, I forgot to check if I was bleeding. I was so focused on getting here.”

Elton giggled. “Who would have thought all those years ago you’d be doing the same thing I did to you years later? I truly thought you would have turned me away when I showed up at your flat that night. The fact you didn’t still astounds me. All the shit we’ve put each other through would have never happened if you had, you know. You could have had a simple life.”

Bernie snorted. “And I’d still be a factory worker and you a banker. Neither of us happy in the least. I… I think it was worth it.”

“Yes, it was, wasn’t it?” Because really, there was no where he’d rather be than in Bernie’s arms.

*********

  
  


_There were times in which it was bloody not worth it though_ , Elton thought, as he was helped into the gaudy stage outfit his ‘handler’ thought would be perfect for his last show of this tour. He tried to be a good sport, he truly did, as he was stuck with pins and moved this way and that. He knew he looked ridiculous (because he certainly felt ridiculous, thank you very much…), but did his own opinions matter at this point in his career?

 _They should_ , he thought, nibbling at his lower lip as he stared at his reflection. _I wonder how difficult this would be to take off myself, then? Go on in my own abnormal clothes, rather than this monstrosity, and be myself? Isn’t that what Bernie said? Just to be myself?_

It had taken close to 50 years, but he finally knew who he was. He was Sir Elton Hercules John. He was a drug addict. He was an alcoholic. He would always have a struggle with food. He looked for others to make decisions for him, as it was too difficult to do so on his own. He was a shopaholic. He was everything he had told himself he would never turn into, with such wonderful examples of what not to do raising him. Was it hereditary, like his therapist had said? Did he really have no control over how he turned out? He would never really know for certain, but he did know this... 

John Reid had no control within his life any longer.

He struggled, but piece by terrible piece, the ensemble came off. He sat at his dressing table in his boxers and carefully wiped off all the makeup his ‘stylist’ had caked on his face, no doubt trying to hide the fine lines that seemed to come upon him overnight. He slipped back into his dark jeans, dark t-shirt, and black blazer. He styled his own hair, then smiled.

He felt human again.

He was no longer a slave to desire. He was no longer a slave to his addictions. He was no longer a slave to the record company, or his manager, or the public. He was himself, and he was damn proud of how far he had come.

“And it’s thanks to you,” he told Bernie, later that night, cuddled on the sofa with both Levon and Amoreena, both nursing cups of tea. “That I came to that conclusion. Your words from years ago came to the forefront of my mind when I was getting dressed. ‘Just be yourself, Reg.’ I didn’t know who I was then, and maybe I still don’t fully know now, but I’m getting closer, day by day, because of your faith in me. Thank you.”


End file.
